Part 10 (1/2)

But it's not Nik's.

Max ”Come on, baby. One more set.”

Panting, she hisses through clenched teeth, ”I can't.”

Don't give me that s.h.i.+t. ”Yes you can. One more set.”

Her hands start to shake in the handles of the pulley as she lowers herself back down to the padded mat. ”No more.”

I push harder. ”One more. It's one more. You can do it. Show me how strong you are.”

But she's had it. Frustrated and annoyed, she throws down the handles of the pulley and yells, ”I'm done. G.o.d, stop yelling at me!”

I wasn't yelling at her. Even so, I lower my voice a little. ”I wasn't yelling at you, baby. I was motivating you.”

She pulls herself towards the edge of the mat, over to her chair. Sweaty and panting, she lowers herself into her chair, and without another word, she wheels herself away. Fast. I look around the room I had converted into a makes.h.i.+ft gym for me and my girl, and sigh. ”f.u.c.k.”

Just another day. It's getting harder and harder to motivate Ceecee. She's becoming a woman; her att.i.tude is changing. She's not as compliant as she used to be. She's becoming her own person. Which is great. Which also sucks. For me. I'm thinking the only thing I can do right now is ask Whit to take her on full-time again. If he doesn't, I don't know what I'll do.

Chapter Eleven.

Helena I wake around noon on Sunday. And when I say I wake, I mean I'm woken by loud a.s.s banging coming through the wall.

At first, I thought it was maintenance working on the building, but with a cringe to end all cringes, I quickly work out what the noise is.

”Oh G.o.d, baby! Yes, Ash. Do it just like-Yes! Keep going. I'm almost there. Almost there. Almost-” A long, drawn out female moan has me jumping out of bed.

”Oh my freaking G.o.d! Dude!” Covering my ears, I chant, ”Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew,” as I run into the bathroom.

I change into sweats and a loose tee, pull my hair into a high ponytail, and throw in my headphones, quickly blasting some random song on my MP3 player that I don't really hear at all. I'm just glad it's blocking out my sister's s.e.xcapades. Not knowing or caring if the main event is over, I walk back into my room, s.n.a.t.c.h up my cell, and type out a heated text.

Me: Dude! The walls are paper thin. SERIOUSLY! Keep the moaning to a minimum. Pretty f.u.c.king please!!!

After a second, I quickly type again.

Me: You know what? Moan all you like. I'm out. Peace, bruh.

I walk out the apartment, and just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I spot something out the corner of my eye. Faster than I thought possible, I spin on my heel and rush back inside, shutting the door behind me as quietly as possible.

My chest heaving, I lift my wide eyes to the peephole and peek out. I see nothing, but I hear something. I pull out my headphones and listen intently.

”Why, h.e.l.lo, dear.” That's Mrs. Crandle.

I hear no one respond.

Mrs. Crandle mutters, ”I'm well, thank you.” She sounds happy. ”What's your name, sweetie?” Silence, then she speaks again. ”Very nice to meet you. Won't you come in?” A moment's quiet before I hear her speak softly. ”That would be very nice. Thank you.” Her voice turns to a morose hush. ”I don't get much company.” And even though I'm not sure who she's talking to, or if she's talking to anyone at all, I feel shame course through me. Mrs. Crandle is my neighbor. I should be more neighborly. I had no idea she was lonely. ”Okay, dear. Come around for tea sometime. I'll introduce you to my cats.”

A low, masculine chuckle sounds before his face is right in my vision. My heart skips a beat. I place a hand over my mouth to stop the squeak from escaping.

Knock knock knock I hold my breath. If he thinks I'm not home, he's bound to leave. Ten seconds pa.s.s. I'm about to pa.s.s out if I don't breathe again soon.

Knock knock knock My face is surely turning purple. My lungs burn. I see the light. Need. Air. To. Live.

Knock knock knock He sighs. ”Helena, I know you're in there. I can see the shadow of your feet from under the door.”

I huff in a much-needed breath. Panting, I glower at him through the door. There's only one thing to do now. I turn the volume up on my MP3 player to an ear-splitting level. I open the door as if I hadn't known he was there all along. I fake a look of surprise. ”Max. I didn't hear you there.” I point to the earphones and hope he can't see the blood leaking down the sides of my face from the loud screeching currently being projected into my ears. I turn it down and remove the earphones. All I hear is ringing. It's quite possible I have caused permanent damage.

He grins down at me. His dimple is so awesome that I think there should be a shrine somewhere in the world dedicated to it. He shakes his head at me. ”Liar.”

I feel a flush creep up from my neck. I fight the urge to be a b.i.t.c.h. I really do. ”What can I do for you?”

Without waiting for an invitation, he slides past me and into my apartment. Stuck in the doorway, I try with all my might not to think about how his body felt sliding next to mine.

Sweet Jesus on a platter! He's toned.

He moves across the room, over to the kitchen. He opens my fridge and sighs. ”I'm hungry.” He looks up at me. ”Are you hungry? We should get something to eat.”

I dip my chin. Why must he be so...Max?

”Max, we've been here before. Dude, focus. Why are you here?”

He checks my fridge again, as if food will magically appear if he looks hard enough. ”What are you living on? There's nothin' in here. You gotta eat.” He peeks up at me, his golden eyes watching me closely. ”You eaten?”

Rather than answering, I dodge the question like a pro. ”I just woke up.”

His face bunches. ”It's past noon.”

I don't have to explain myself to you.

My mind pokes its tongue out at him. ”I had a late night.”

Until now, I hadn't realized what he's holding in his hand. He rubs absently at his belly. ”I'm in bad shape over here. I need food and you have...” he winces, ”milk.” His nose bunches adorably. ”Milk is not food, Helena. I'm a growing boy. I can't survive on milk. I need solids.”

Still eyeing the item in his hand, I ask quietly, ”Why do you have a mini whiteboard in your hand?”

He looks down at it, then back up at me. ”To talk to Mrs. Crandle.”

I don't get it. ”Why did you need to speak to Crandle?”

He shrugs. ”I didn't.”

Everything screeches to a halt. Hold the phone. My brows knotted, deep in thought, I place the fingertips of one hand over my mouth. Having gotten my thoughts together, I ask quietly, ”You went out...out of your way...to buy a mini whiteboard to communicate with a deaf old lady for no good reason at all?”

His eyes narrow as he looks up in thought as if processing what I just asked. He nods quickly. ”Yep.”